


the tragedy (it seems unending)

by hollow_city



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns for Pidge | Katie Holt, Major Character Injury, Season/Series 04, Spoilers, could totally be klance if you want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 11:14:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 870
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12386955
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_city/pseuds/hollow_city
Summary: "lance," hunk says, like a warning, like he should give it a rest for once.but he can't. because if he does, he'll fall apart.





	the tragedy (it seems unending)

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written anything happy in a while because pretty much every day has been a Bad Day. that's where this came from. this is set sometime in season four, so if you've still yet to watch that, don't read this. this takes place sometime in the season, after keith left, but before the big attack on the galra. 
> 
> the title is from the lovely song turn it off by paramore.

At times like these, he doesn't know whether to laugh or to cry. So he tells the group a joke, a bad joke, the one about the planet they visited some months ago. The one joke that no one has ever laughed at. He's only told it twice before; this is the third. They don't laugh this time, either.

"Lance," Hunk says, like a warning, like he should give it a rest for once.

But he can't. Because if he does, he'll fall apart. He's not supposed to do that in front of them. In front of anybody. He's supposed to be funny, light, untouchable. That's the way it's always been, as the middle child, as the class clown, as a leg of the defender of the universe.

His problems aren't important right now, especially not with Allura in the cryo-pod. He carried her back to Red, and he flew her back to the castle, and that's what he's good for right now. Now he's supposed to go back to his room and hide away from their watchful eyes.

But right now, he can't get that image out of his brain. The sight he found before him when he responded to Allura's distress call is burned into the backs of his eyelids, and it just won't leave him alone. The horrified look in her tearful eyes, the blood dripping from her fingers, the gaping hole in her pink armor. It was worse than what any of his nightmares have ever shown him.

He clutches his bayard tighter in between shaky fingers like it's the only thing keeping him on his feet. He tastes blood, but he's not entirely sure what it's from. His forehead stings faintly; maybe it's that.

"She'll be fine," he mutters quietly, more to reassure himself than anything else.

He tries not to think about the straining in his muscles as he hauled her dead weight into his arms and carried her over the bumpy land of the foreign planet. He tries to push away the guilt eating away at his stomach that arrived the moment he realized Allura's weight would prevent him from saving the tiny, wailing alien girl from a Galran soldier. He tries to forget the scream the girls' mother let out before she too fell victim to the Galran scourge.

Lance's lip begins to tremble and he tries his hardest to stop it because he is a soldier, goddamnit. He is a soldier, and this is war, and lives are lost in wars, and that's just what happens. He just has to suck it up and accept that.

But he can't.

"Amaya," he says quietly, not trusting his own voice to be able to stand much more than that. He's not sure why he says it, but it's ringing in his ears like a song that won't escape his brain. He had listened to the mother scream for her daughter, but he didn't do anything about it.

"What?" Pidge asks. Lance can feel their eyes on him, but he can't bring himself to look at any of his teammates.

Tears well in his eyes as he remembers the bright orange eyes of the little girl. They sparkled with tears as she begged for him to save her. Soon, anger joins the sadness; anger at himself, for letting this happen; for being so weak.

He lets out a huff and repeats himself. "Amaya. The girl's name was Amaya, and I couldn't save her."

Icy silence follows his words as if no one knows what to say. Lance doesn't want to be around when they do figure it out.

He clears his throat. "Let me know when she wakes up," he whispers towards the floor, before leaving the room as quickly as possible. He can't snap in front of them; he can't cry.

The farther he walks, the blurrier his vision gets. Tears fall over his cheeks and he doesn't bother to wipe them away, even when they begin to mix with the blood on his face. He moves on autopilot, his feet carrying him forward but his brain lost in bitter-tasting memories.

He doesn't know where he's going until he gets there... Keith's room.

Or, what used to be Keith's room. Lance knows that he won't be there, but he steps inside anyway. The doors slide closed behind him, leaving him alone in the dimly lit room. It's empty, except for the one thing left on the bed.

The dumb red jacket.

A choked sob echoes through the cold room and Lance clamps a gloved hand over his mouth to stop any more from following it. He sinks down onto the bed where he'd spent countless sleepless nights, sometimes talking about everything and sometimes saying nothing at all.

He clutches Keith's jacket between fingers caked with dried blood, and another sob escapes as he squeezes his eyes shut.

He wants Keith to be here. He wants his team to be whole and happy again. He wants to _go home_.

But he can't.

And right now, he just has to accept that his family thinks he's dead, he's a teenage soldier who can't save anybody, and he wasn't even good enough to make Keith stay.


End file.
